It's a mystery...

Sometimes I feel crazy. Sometimes I’m confused. But this time it can't be my fault, really... and it's a mystery.

This mystery made me suspect my dad, my son, even my daughter who was in Denver. Then when all family members were…let’s say cleared, I started doubting myself.

This is my story.

It was 8:45 pm Wednesday evening. I had been reading my favorite blogs (probably one of yours). I had also been “watching” the show Criminal Minds. What have you all learned about JW since July? I am afraid of spiders, closed in spaces and the dark. I am coward. And I have no self control over obeying my rules about not watching disturbing shows which did not help my reaction to the following episode.

The telephone rings. I leave my computer and answer a phone call from my daughter. She was in Denver waiting for her connecting flight to San Diego. We started talking and I took the telephone and lay/sat on my bed propped by pillows. I felt very relaxed. The TV was still on. So I sat back and listened to my lovely daughter talk and was happy she had called. While she was talking my eyes (as usual) scanned the room. This is just who I am. No matter where I go, my eyes take in every detail of every thing. That night my eyes wandered over to a decoupage photo of me that I had found while cleaning a couple of weeks prior.

The picture was of me in my senior year in high school decoupaged. For those of you who may be too young to know what this means it is a process of preparing a block of wood, smearing white glue on the wood, then slapping a photo on top of that, and then topping it off with another layer of glue and then letting it dry. (See this is why I don't have my own crafting TV show.) After I found it I propped it up in front of a framed rose picture on a bookcase in my bedroom. Why? Just to remind myself what a cutie I was. And I did that for a couple weeks I would say, “Oh, Yea, you were cute, look at you.”

But that night as my eyes wandered over to the grouping, I felt something was wrong terribly wrong with that grouping. But, my brain couldn't wrap around it.

Then I froze.

I was silent.

Finally, Dr. Lovely Daughter says “Are you watching TV while I am talking to you?” For some reason she is against this type of behavior.

I still couldn't talk.

Then I stuttered and stammered.

My heart started pounding out of my chest. “No, I uh… give me a minute. I am freaked out. Something is wrong.”

“What?” I heard her say.

I kept focusing on the area of my despair.

“What is it?” she said again. I could hear the airport intercom blaring with announcements in the background.

Then I said. “A couple of weeks ago, I found a high school photo of me that your dad had decoupaged to a piece of wood - a plaque.” Then I took a deep breath and continued. “I thought I looked adorable, so I put it on top of the bookcase so I could look at it and remember how adorable I use to be.”

Now goosebumps were flying south on my arms.

And... my imagination also took flight.

“The plaque... is turned backwards.” I told her in my weak stressed voice. “My face is turned to the wall.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I haven’t touched it and my face is facing the wall…as if someone deliberately turned it around.” I jumped out of bed...thinking I might not be alone.

“There has to be an explanation.” I heard my psychologist daughter reason, “Maybe you knocked it off and then set it back up there.”

“I think I would remember doing that.” I said. My mind continued to race as I raced through the house checking closets, windows and doors. “I’ve got to go, and check out the house to see if someone is in the HOUSE.”

“I'll stay on the line while you check.” She offered.

I went barging into each room, opening every single closet in all four bedrooms, looking under four beds- I just kept looking.

Then I remembered. I had bug bombed two days before and had left the windows open all over the house from noon until I got back home at four. I set out to check the windows.

To be continued.